


there and there and there

by archons



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Denial, Dominance, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 11:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7638871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archons/pseuds/archons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warden business takes Stroud away from Hawke more often than it lets him to stay, but when he's allowed to go home to his lover in Val Royeaux, the occasion is always a special one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there and there and there

Light _ached_ in the mornings following one of Lord Jaufray's fêtes.

Dane frowned at the open windows that lined the hallway. Morning warmed the tiles beneath his bare feet and sighed just strongly enough to ripple the windows' filmy curtains. He pulled his robe tighter around his shoulders, straying closer to one of the many open windows despite his pounding head.

The courtyard welcomed him with vibrant colors and the rushing sound of the central fountain. Sitting upon the fountain's curled edge were two larks. They chirped and hpped around on the porous stone, rustled their fawn-colored feathers in what water splashed their way, and when Dane gave a whistle, one cocked its crowned head in his direction before flying off. The remaining bird jumped in a half-circle before extending its wings and following suit.

There were other sounds to accompany the now missing birds. Carriage wheels groaning over cobblestones, the clacking and clomping of hooves, enthusiastic conversation—it all reached back to him over the high walls of his home in Val Royeaux.

Drawing his hand to his forehead, Dane rubbed over the sun-warmed skin with a sigh. Breakfast had been delayed until lunch, and his stomach growled its exasperation with his cooks. They had enjoyed Lord Jaufray's extensive wine collection nearly as much as he had, though the setting had been different.

More palatable, maybe.

Even if the wine _was_ watered.

He understood, even if the thought of breaking open a fresh croissant was enough to make his mouth water.

Halfway to the end of the hallway, Dane heard a bell. It was a musical, if sharp, note, and he sucked in a sudden, surprised breath. _I wasn't expecting a guest_ , the pain-addled part of his brain offered the rest of him. But that wasn't the truth.

He rushed down the hallway, across the foyer, and to the large front doors of his estate. They were even heavier than they looked, but Dane found strength enough to hoist them open. He knew who stood on the other side. There was no doubting it. Who else would call on him so early in the morning? And the morning after a much anticipated party, no less?

“Stroud.”

The name was out of him before he even saw an inch of his Warden lover. He was breathless and pink-cheeked from running. His dark curls lay in a disheveled mess around his face and shoulders, and even though he blinked into the bright sunlight that assaulted him once again, his eyes were bright.

“Come in, come in.” Dane reached out of the doorway for him, grasping at his clothes and tugging him into the dark foyer. “Before the _entire_ city sees me in my dressing robes. I'd rather it remain a privileged few.”

“As would I,” was the immediate, amused response.

Stroud shut the door behind him with a nudge of his foot, unwilling to let his gaze drop from Dane's face. “I trust your evening was an eventful one?” He reached out to cup his lover's warm cheek, thumbing over soft skin. “Your headache is nothing too horrible, I hope.”

“It would have been worse,” Dane said, tilting his chin up to press his face closer into the curve of Stroud's hand, “if I had nothing to look forward to.”

Whatever festivities the previous night held, he'd returned home to sleep and to wait for the man standing in front of him. There was something appealing about knowing he would return to him, being sure of it. He'd never been sure of anything in his life before Jean-Marc Stroud.

“And just like that, you've saved me again.”

Rather than giving Stroud a kiss, his hand moved to touch over his, removing it from his face only to lace their fingers together.

The differences in their skin delighted Dane more than he could say. Stroud's hands were broad. Their skin was tough and callused in places. Thin, in others. His were small, slender things with tapered fingers and finely trimmed nails. Various lotions and scrubs kept his own skin soft even with the frequent use of his staff.

He held tight as they maneuvered through the home of the illustrious and much-mocked Dane Hawke, a Ferelden-born blood mage with Marcher blood living in the very center of Orlais.

His home conformed to current Orlesian fashions as much as you'd expect from someone like Dane.

Everything looked vaguely Orlesian at first sight. Only upon closer inspection did most realize how wrong they were. Rather than pastels and glittering gold leaf, the furnishings were bled of most color. Red survived, but only red. And what might have been carved into the shape of a flower was carved into fine, dull edges.

The paintings that lined the hallways were drab to the eye of most- one of a young Leandra Amell, one of Lord Aristide Amell, one of Dane himself painted not long after his duel with the Arishok. That was his favorite of the paintings. The brush strokes were bold, and his skin gleamed white against the copper of the blood that poured from the qunari leader's split throat.

It was a point of conversation, to say the least.

But that morning, his attention was not set on the look of his home, but the comfort of his sun room. With Stroud's arrival, Dane had all but forgotten the throb of pain at the back of his head. This was more important.

Ushering Stroud into the many-windowed room was more important. Watching him remove his heavy coat and run his fingers through his hair was important. Sitting beside him on one of room's two chaise lounges with legs draped over his lap was the most important thing in the world that morning.

“I've missed you,” Dane began. His hand found the nape of Stroud's neck as he smiled. The skin there was damp with sweat. Summer wasn't kind to anyone, but Dane's more sedentary lifestyle made things a little easier. “How was your trip?”

Stroud's callused hands found Dane's pale calves the moment the man's legs rested over his own.  
  


“It was as it usually is,” he said as his thumbs began to massage slow circles into Dane's legs. “Uncomfortable, to put it mildly, but made tolerable by thoughts of you.”

It was an understatement, truly. The amount of times he sought refuge in the thoughts of his lover would have worried him, were he not a Grey Warden. Good thoughts were few and far between in the Deep Roads, and one must do what one can to survive.

“I've been longing to kiss you again since the moment I left two months ago,” he whispered, sliding closer on the lounge. “The heartache of dreaming of you only to awake with nothing but cold ground for company is almost too much to bear.”

“Then you ought to kiss me.”

Dane's voice was soft and warmer than the sun. But when Stroud leaned forward to do just that, he was stopped short with a palm pressed to the center of his chest. He drew away, curious, to find that Dane wore more than just a dressing gown. He wore a devious little smile on his pretty mouth, enough to give him a thrill.

Taking his hand away from Stroud's chest, content with having stopped him, Dane pointed instead to the fullest part of his cheek. “Here,” he said. “You ought to kiss me here.”

Stroud couldn't keep the smile from his lips. “You're in a cruel mood this morning,” he murmured, leaning in closer and closer until the tip of his nose was brushing the apple of his cheek. “Surely you don't plan on depriving me after all this time...”

Those were the words that left him, but he knew all too well that his lover understood. It was rare for Stroud not to be immediately obedient – that was his preference and what gave him the most pleasure – but on occasion, he enjoyed pushing his boundaries, though never too far.

His lips brushed the same patch of skin that his nose had, before his mouth fell to his jaw, eagerly kissing at it before he could be scolded.

Dane's hands were small, but capable.

And they were on Stroud the instant he felt the brush of his stubble against his jaw. Holding his jaw in a tight grip, he pressed his lover's face away and stared at him with sharp eyes. “I didn't think it was cruel to tell you where to kiss me, but I could _make_ it cruel.”

This time, when he smiled, it was dangerous. “But you would like that, wouldn't you? Tell me.”

The stir Stroud felt in his cock was immediate, and were he a less disciplined man, he would have thrust upward, just for the chance of friction.

“Ah...” He paused, swallowing back the rush of saliva in his mouth. “Yes. Yes, I would like that.”

He found himself pressing closer. It was dangerous. He wasn't waiting for command, but how could he? How could he after months of having nothing but memories to tease and taunt him. When his man was this close, hair loose and disheveled, in a dressing gown that looked as if a soft breeze could remove it.

Stroud licked his lips. This was part of what he missed, no matter how much it ached not to be able to do as he desired. Dane's power and ability to use it was something that attracted Stroud to him from the moment he met him, before he was the celebrity he was now.

Even when Dane was poor, living in squalor, he could make the most prideful man fall to his knees and beg for the privilege of sucking his cock.

“If you don't show me discipline,” he whispered, “I might fuck you raw right here.”

Dane gave a soft snort of a laugh.

“No, you won't.” There was a confidence in his tone that could shut someone down in the bat of an eyelash. “You know better than to do that.”

Stroud's proximity only made it easier to tease him, and Dane took advantage of that. He leaned in, his own lips brushing wherever he wanted. The path lead over Stroud's cheekbone to the shell of his ear and lingered just there. There was no lack of desire on his part. He'd nearly chafed himself in his loneliness. But this was as much foreplay as anything else.

“I've been disciplining you for years now, Jean-Marc.” His tongue curled around the name in much the same way that it'd curled around something else many times before. “You're too sweet to go against my wishes, aren't you?”

There was no hiding his arousal.

Stroud let out a quiet, but very noticeable moan, leaning into his lover. The smallest brush of contact sent a jolt down his spine, around his hips, and straight into his cock. He was harder than he'd been in months, and it _ached_ to not do more.

“Please.” The whisper was ragged and frayed. “Be harsh with me. I-- I fear if you're not all your training will be for naught.” Stroud exhaled shakily, fingertips digging into Dane's lower thigh. “I want to behave, but my cock wants to be buried deep inside you.” As if on cue, he thrust upward. “Ah.. h-help me, love. Those nights in the Roads might've turned me into a beast.”

A sharp slap rang out in the otherwise quiet sun room, and Stroud's hand fell away from Dane's thigh, the skin around his knuckles flushing red.

He enjoyed this side of Stroud. His desperation was a beloved compliment, and seeing his man in such a state after only one kiss brought a bright light into Dane's eyes. He wanted him. He wanted exactly what Stroud wanted.

But he wouldn't let him have it.

Not yet.

“Kiss me where I permit you to kiss me,” Dane murmured as he reclined against the arm of the lounge. The change in his position coaxed his dressing robe open, baring his collarbones and most of his chest. “Touch me where I permit you to touch me.” He reached up and gave Stroud's cheek a firm pat. “You're a smart man. You remember how this goes.”

The bared skin was almost too much. Dane was laying out a buffet for a man who had been starved, and he was well aware of this.

It was a test, he was sure, and it was one he was unsure he could pass.

He leaned forward, lips parted in desire. He knew how his skin would taste without having bathed, and the thought thrilled him. Salt mixed with wine, the tang of his sweat on his tongue. Dane's collar was painfully bare. Stroud could remember clearly marking him nearly all over before he left.  
  


It was a tradition. A ritual.

A necessity for them both.

“Let me mark you again,” he'd whisper, voice trembling with arousal, with a need that ran deeper even than that. “Ah.. please... I cannot bear to see you so... _without_ me.”

Dane's fingers curled into the loose, deep blue fabric of the shirt Stroud wore.

With a tug, Dane pulled him closer still, thighs parting to accommodate the width of the man on top of him. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew Stroud would never overstep the boundaries that were set unless it was discussed. And it hadn't been.

Dane kissed the corner of Stroud's broad mouth, and he gripped deeper into his shirt, holding him still, showing him that he wasn't alone in the state he was in.

“I'm never without you,” he told him.

His voice was a dewy whisper... and heart-breaking in its earnesty.

Drawing back, Dane rested his head on the arm of the lounge again. He let go of Stroud with some effort and lifted his hand to his jaw. He followed through with a gentle touch to the curve of his own throat. At both places, he tapped his middle and forefinger.

“You may kiss me here, if you'd like.”

He was on him before he even finished the sentence.

Stroud's lips never strayed from the path given to him. His eagerness was unlike anything Dane had felt before. This outing was harder on him than others had been, and it was as if the only way to silence the things haunting him was to suck distraction from Dane's throat.

Within moments he was panting, losing his breath from how long he kept his lips pressed to his throat. He wanted so badly to leave a mark, but he was allowed a kiss, nothing more. So he kissed. His lips became more and more swollen and damp as he followed the path over and over again.  
  


He could taste him, just barely, and that along was enough to drive his cock to a full erection, pressing firmly between Dane's thighs.

“ _Stroud_ ,” was all Dane could say. Instruction was silenced in his throat and replaced with a desperate little whisper of his name. His hands gathered on Stroud's shoulders, clutching at his shirt, at the muscles beneath. “Ah, that... You really have missed me, haven't you?”

The question needed no answer, but the answer came in the press of Stroud's lips, in his uneven breath, in the pressure of the member pinned between them.

One of Dane's slender hands left the steady curve of his shoulder for the nape of his neck, and it only took a little strength to guide him downwards. From his neck, to his collar, to the exposed ivory planes of his chest.

With every new inch, Dane whispered a thick, “There.”

By the time they reached one of his swollen pink nipples, they were wrecks in equal measure. Dane curled his toes and rocked his hips sharply upwards. “Kiss me _there_.”

If Stroud had been drooling before, there was no word for what he was doing now.

He was told to kiss, but he couldn't _only_ kiss, not here, not at the harden peak of his chest. It was too much to ignore, and knowing that Dane was just as desperate as he was made the decision simple.  
  


Saliva rolled over the swollen, pink nub of Dane's nipple just as his lips and teeth clamped around it. He sucked and bit and tugged, quickly switching between that and kissing sweetly over the skin, partially to soothe him, partially to placate him.

“Some might liken you to ambrosia,” he rasped against his chest, hips rocking forward helplessly. “But I know better.”

Stroud tilted his head upwards to look into his eyes as he tongued over Dane's nipple once more, giving it another firm suck.

“You're water. A few hours without you in my mouth, and my body despairs.”

The mouth on Dane's chest coaxed a number of new sounds from his throat. Being reduced to simpering little whines and aching moans hadn't been his plan initially, but the distance had been even more painful this time. He would have happily been swallowed whole.

Remembering Stroud in his loneliest moments was a double-edged sword with the keenest of blades. Remembering him meant remembering this, meant flushed cheeks and a hand buried deep in his trousers.

His tongue flicked out over his mouth to wet it before drawing his full bottom lip into his mouth.

“Kiss me here,” Dane said, his voice gone thin with pleasure. He dug his hands into Stroud's short hair and pressed him down over his stomach. “Here,” he offered before moving Stroud to his hip. “ _Here_ ,” he offered again, letting go of a thick moan when he felt Stroud's mouth press against the stiff length of his cock through his dressing gown.

The noise Stroud made was like warm honey. It slid over the the arch of his lovers cock, coating it in a sweetness he was all too ready to devour.

As he was instructed, he kissed. His lips were soaked with drool, and there was no avoiding leaving dark spots all over the soft, thin fabric. Stroud could practically taste him through it, and that was enough to whip him into a further frenzy.

Stroud's hips ground helplessly against the lounge as he started to suck and lick over Dane's clothing. “I can... I can almost taste you,” he moaned against the base of his lover's cock. “You're so close, Dane... Please... your cum is the only thing in this world that will quench me.”

Dane held to the stray edges of his composure with tight fists. They were long away from each other, but he would not let himself bend so easily. He refused.

With one hand, he curled his fingers into the longer hair at the crown of Stroud's head and pulled him backwards far enough for their eyes to meet. His stare was partly commanding and partly submissive. He was weak for the man gathered between his thighs, but after years and years of learning, he could fake just about anything.

His free hand went to the loose belt tied around his waist. Nimble fingers worked the silk strip of fabric open, and his robe fell away from his body, baring him from head to toe. Everything was laid out for Stroud to see- the soft muscles of his stomach, the ragged scar between his hips and the faded, smaller ones over his thighs, and his beautifully curved cock, small and swollen and already dripping.

“Be a good boy, and I'll let you drink all you want,” Dane purred, though his cheeks burned with the desperate need to be taken into his lover's mouth.

Reaching down with his hand, he brushed his fingers over the root of his cock.

“Kiss there.”

There was a voice in Stroud's mind that screamed _no_. How could he look at the swollen, twitching length of his lover's cock and not take it all into his mouth? Thick rivulets of Dane's arousal slid down the shaft. He needed to taste it, but Dane's fingers did not point to the the skin where it pooled.  
  


That voice, however loud, was shut up by Dane's eyes. It was as if the man knew what he was thinking.  
  


The thought made him smile.

Leaning in, his pressed his soft, damp lips to the base of Dane's cock, kissing over the small section. His tongue flicked over soft skin, and his hips drove downward against the cushions over and over. It took only the slightest taste for him to moan as if he'd swallowed him whole.

“Please,” he rasped against Dane's cock, eyes locking up to his face. His lover's cock rubbed against his cheek, against rough stubble. “Might I have more...?”

Dane's forefinger dragged midway up the length of his cock, and he chewed at his bottom lip at the pressure. Anything to keep himself steady, even if it was all a ruse. He required a certain presence to sell this game to Stroud, and he knew it. He was barely convincing as it was.

“Here,” Dane murmured. His fingers twisted in Stroud's hair as he coaxed him forward. “Kiss me here, and I won't tease you much longer.”

He stared down at him, and his eyes softened. “I'm proud of you.”

At his words, Stroud couldn't help but beam. He leaned into the touch to his hair, shut his eyes, and soaked in the euphoria that came with pleasing the man he loved.

“Then I am doing well,” he murmured, heavy-lidded eyes opening to stare up at him. Stroud dragged his lips along the length he was allowed, gasping against the warm flesh. “I would do anything for those words... for those eyes...”

His tongue passed over Dane' stiff shaft, and the strong taste made Stroud shiver with pleasure, goosebumps forming over his arms.

“Let me pleasure you.” Stroud's hands pawed at the soft waist bared to him. “Let me suck you dry to make up for all of the times you were forced to find release with your hand.”

“Soon.”

The word left Dane with a sigh, and his heavy lids fluttered shut. He trusted that Stroud wouldn't take advantage of his prone, overwhelmed state and steal whatever it was he wanted. He trusted that. But he didn't keep his eyes shut for long.

When he looked at him again, his broad mouth curled into a pleased little smile. It was easy to make Dane smile. Still, Stroud was good at it.

His fingertip slid up the underside of his cock until he brushed the damp slit of the head.

“You can kiss here now,” he said. “If that's what you want.”

“Thank you...”

The words were reverent. If he had been given permission, his lips would have found purchase against the soft, scarred expanses of Dane's thighs. He would have thanked him with a thousand kisses, but they would have to wait until afterward, when they both tended to each other's emotional needs.

He pressed his lips to the tip as shown. There was no instruction to suck or lick or anything other than this, so he continued pressing his lips over and over the head of Dane's cock. The feeling of his precum against his lips, but not in his mouth, was maddening. It drove his hips to rut against the cushions faster and harder, until it became apparent his cock must've been in no better state than Dane's was currently.

“Forgive me.” Stroud's voice was dense with need. “Forgive me... I don't think I can hold out, _mon chéri.”_  
  


He knew that this would change the course of the night, but there was no fighting it any longer. He couldn't be the good boy his lover wanted.

Stroud took Dane's cock into his mouth, and after a thick moan, began to suck with a deep hunger.

Dane knew in that moment that he wouldn't be able to punish Stroud. Their precious hours together would be spend in another way, in a gentler way. There was no other option in his eyes, not in the wake of Stroud's eagerness and desperation to please him.

Both of his hands found purchase in Stroud's hair, and he rolled his hips upwards, deeper into the hot warmth of his mouth.

“Take all-” Dane made a low, choked noise. “Take all of it.”

A man less experienced with both cock and Dane himself might've gagged, but Stroud had already relaxed and exhaled by the time his lover thrust his cock to the back of his throat.

His moan was deep, rising from the pit of his stomach to vibrate around the wonderful, stiff member he had missed so dearly. There was rarely a night he didn't think of this very thing. Pleasuring Dane while he himself grew harder and harder in his trousers, unable to even think of cumming until his love had – that was one of his favorite things.

Sucking loudly, he pulled back some of the saliva that dared to try and escape from his mouth. He worked his tongue expertly over the shaft, focusing on ignoring the tickle at the back of his throat as the head of Dane's cock pressed further.

Dane shifted beneath him. The small of his back, damp from the rising warmth in the room, slid over the silk of his dressing gown as he pressed his hips backward, eager to draw his cock from Stroud's mouth. Leaving it meant returning, and the idea of toying with his man even still made his cock throb.

He was nearly out of his mouth when Stroud pressed down onto him, back pinned to the lounge and his cock swallowed anew.

Whatever low, pleased moans Dane was making before turned into gasps of delight. Stroud so rarely exerted dominance upon him. There was no use in denying the appeal. It was a dynamic they never explored, but one he might consider visiting in the future.

“If you aren't- ah, _fuck_.” He began again. “If you aren't careful, you'll bring me off already.” There was a lengthy pause, filled only with the sound of Stroud slurping on his cock. “Unless that is what you want?”

Stroud hummed with delight.

Of course that's what he wanted. The taste of his cum was unlike anything he had ever tasted. The more money Dane had, the sweeter it was on his tongue, though he could recall the taste years ago, before all his fame and wealth.

It had been bitter and watery, and Dane couldn't bathe as often as he liked, but all Stroud could remember was his face when he swallowed his load for the first time.

Spurred on by the memory, he took in a long, deep breath through his nose before pressing in as far as he could, until it was pressed to Dane's lower stomach from the tip to the bridge. It would have been easier to open his mouth, to allow himself to relax, to extend his tongue, but he did not want ease. He wanted his lover's load.

He pinned Dane's hips down firmly and sucked, only _just_ bobbing his head up and down for the friction.

The memory came for both of them, bright and sudden. Stroud remembered Dane's taste, his face. Dane remembered the brush of Stroud's mustache on his stomach and the headiness of being wanted in earnest by a man like him. He remembered just how different sex for pleasure was from what he felt at the Rose. He remembered what came after he did- the softness, the sweetness of it all.

His moans thinned to whines, and he gasped for whatever air he could managed to suck into his lungs. There was only so much he could stand.

Only so much.

Only _that_ much.

Dane came with a burst of pleasure, shuddering violently on the lounge where he was pressed between the brocade cushions and Stroud's broad _everything_. With his orgasm came a rush of heat that he felt from head to curling toes.

Whatever few words found him were whispered and hoarse.

“Fuck. Fuck. Stroud, love, please. Suck harder.” He shoved his hands into Stroud's shoulders, but gripped at his shirt, demanding he stay close. “Take everything from me.”

Stroud sucked and bobbed and worked his tongue, letting his lover's cum fill his mouth, letting the taste and the texture come back to him. He missed it, as odd as it was. There were other times, other men, that he could barely keep a load down, or only took it in his hands or on his face, but with Dane...

Desperate to do as Dane bid, his hands left his narrow hips in favor of working between his legs. Even as he softened, Stroud began to massage and squeeze Dane's balls, began to press against the hint of his prostate behind his balls.

Finally, he looked up. He waited.

And when Dane finally found his gaze, he swallowed.

Dane reached between them to guide his cock from Stroud's mouth with a wet pop. He went limp against the arm of the lounge and watched the show he was given. Seeing Stroud rub his tongue all over his mouth, savoring the flavor that remained, was almost enough to demand more. Almost. But there were other things that required his attention.

Namely, his man's pleasure.

“Come here,” Dane whispered, opening his arms for him. There was nothing he liked better than having Stroud above him, even if being penetrated by him was a rare occurrence. “Lay in my arms, and I'll bring you off, as well.”

He smiled, all teeth and dimples and unending warmth. Even at his coldest, he had a sweet smile for Stroud. “You would like that, wouldn't you?”

“Yes,” he murmured, already climbing over him.

“Yes,” Stroud repeated, kissing over Dane's flushed face.

His hips rocked forward, rubbing against Dane's soft, sensitive cock. The bulge in his trousers was thick and hard, straining against soft leathers that his lover had given him.

“Please.. _ah_ , pl-please, Dane...” Stroud shut his eyes tightly as a jolt of pleasure shot through him, feeling Dane tugging on the laces keeping them apart. “I've missed your hands... and I have missed that smile...”

Not to be outdone, Dane leaned up and brushed his lips against Stroud's, still warm and wet. “I've missed everything about you.”

The laces were no gargantuan task. Neither was getting his trousers around his thick thighs and exposing what it was that Dane sought, hard and heavy between his legs.

Like most things, their cocks couldn't have been more different than they were. Stroud was long and thick and hung partly to the side. The blood-darkened head stood out against the pale ivory of Dane's thighs. That, too, was damp.

Dane dragged the pad of his thumb over the slit, gathering up a pearl of precum only to press it against Stroud's lips as he took him in hand.

“How does it taste?” His eyes fell to his lover's mouth. “To have both of us in your mouth.”

Stroud panted over Dane's thumb, letting out a quiet, wet noise around it as he situated it to suck on properly. His eyelids fluttered close, hips stalling for a moment as he focused on the taste.

It was Dane who had to pull his thumb away, lest Stroud suck it until the skin wrinkled.

“Tasting my own arousal is almost as sweet as you,” he murmured against Dane's mouth, breath heavy with the scent of cum. “The...” Stroud paused a moment, biting on his bottom lip to power through a moan as his cock was being stroked. “The reminder that we both desperately need this... oh, it is-- it is an addiction. Give me more, love...”

“More of what?”

Dane leaned up even farther, crowding close to Stroud's face as he asked him, “More of this?” His hand wrapped around him in a fist, tugging on his cock without mercy, and his free hand followed, falling away from Stroud's mouth to scoop up even more of the cum leaking from the head.

Rather than feeding it to him, Dane passed his tongue over his thumb and smiled. The flavor was strong, even though the cum itself was thin.

Then he kissed him.

His tongue slid past Stroud's teeth and to his tongue, circling it, passing the taste over to him as well as stealing away remnants of his own. Once he was satisfied, he pulled away. Excitement colored his cheeks and put stars in his eyes.

“Or more of that?”

Stroud felt a chuckle bubble from his chest, but it only just made it out of his mouth before a moan overtook it.

“ _Nhh_ , you-- you can't expect me to choose.”

He gasped, biting on his bottom lip once more, this time much more harshly. Clamping his eyes shut, he focused only on rocking his hips into the tight grip of Dane's hand.

  
“You,” he said suddenly. “I want-- I need _you_ , Dane. Give me – _ah_ – g-give me all you have to give...” Pausing, Stroud leaned forward, brushing his lips over one of his high cheekbones. “I have gone too long without you to-- to go without one or the other... my time away has made me petty and selfish... please, mnn...!”

His voice turned thready all the sudden, making the next words as petulant as he implied.

“Please indulge me...”

Dane reached behind him, splaying his free hand over the base of Stroud's spine only to usher him forward. He was never demanding when Stroud was whipped up into such a state. He was never patient, either, but never demanding.

Stroud enjoyed the taste of tenderness, he knew.

“Lay on top of me, love.”

Once Stroud relented and came to rest on top of him, Dane's hand shifted down towards his bare ass. The movement of Stroud's hips was hardly subtle, but it was nowhere near enough to get him off, either. So Dane coaxed him into sharper, more pointed thrusts. He offered him what he wanted- to rut against him until he came onto the skin of his stomach.

Stroud's teeth and lips found the pale skin of his lover's throat and set out to do what he had wanted so badly when he first saw him. When he had finally come home to the man who loved him.  
  


It was pure in its base nature. There was no sweetness there, no tenderness – he was too far gone, too close to his release to have the capacity to do such a thing. There was only his cock, how badly his balls needed to empty, and the soft, delicate skin of Dane's stomach calling to him.

His thrust were harsh, a reminder of how strong a man can get when his life is nothing but blood and marching. But the warm body underneath him kept him from that dark place.

Those were not all he had. Not anymore.

There was no point in a warning, though even if there had been, Stroud would not have been able to give any. His orgasm was sudden and violent, causing him to sob. His breath was stolen for a moment, leaving him gasping for breath against the marked skin of Dane's throat.

The moment of heat pooling just above his belly button passed, and Dane squirmed beneath Stroud as his cum dripped over the curve of his waist. It would be a small mess, but a mess, a damp reminder of his homecoming.

_Worth it_.

Dane arched and shifted, eager to find a comfortable place for Stroud to lower his weight upon him. And when he did, and when Stroud truly laid down on top of him, they let out a slow, grateful breath in unison.

“I missed you.” Dane pressed a kiss to the gray hairs at his man's temple. “Every single day, every morning, every night- you were missed.”

A small smile quirked the corners of Stroud's mouth.

“And I missed you, Dane.” His voice was rough around the edges. “The Deep Roads are never an easy thing to trek, and this outing was... worse than expected.” Sighing, he quickly worked past the thoughts of blood, of taint, and of secrets. “Knowing I needed to come back to you – it kept me alive more than my sword did. It is good to be back... to thank you. And to show you my love has not waned in the slightest.”

Dragging his fingers through Stroud's short hair, Dane couldn't help but smile himself and let out a quiet laugh. “I should hope not, given what just happened.”

The laugh was forgotten when their eyes met.

“Were you injured?” Dane asked. “Do you have some new hurt for me to make better? Some new scar?” He cast a cursory look over Stroud's sun-weathered skin, eager to find what few imperfections he had, searching for some new break or tear. “I hate not being there with you. Maker knows I'm not a healer, but I could... take care of you. In more ways than just this one.”

“No.”  
  


The word was not firm, or angry, or even upset. It was warm.

Reaching up, Stroud cupped Dane's cheek, thumbing gently over the tinge of pink still lingering there. “While I would relish your company, even one excursion with the Wardens could take much from you. Too much.”

He pressed his lips together, letting his hand fall to the curve of Dane's throat. “We had several junior Wardens with us, and we were ill-prepared for a broodmother. It was destroyed, but every last one of those young men and women were killed... or simply dragged off. There was nothing I could do.”

Clearing his throat, he looked away from Dane, but only for a moment. His eyes were glassy now.

“The hours I spend away from you gnaw at my heart,” he whispered. “But I would rather ache for you than see you die... or worse.”

“Selfish of me, isn't it?”

Dane stared up at him with eyes as clear as they were soft. He touched over various points of Stroud's body in an attempt to gently coax him closer. First, the back of his neck. Second, his right shoulder. Third, his left elbow. He gathered him up in his arms and held still until his lungs ached from the weight of him.

Rather than pulling away, Dane took a deep breath straight from the crook of Stroud's neck before releasing it with a sigh. “I hate being alone.”

“I dreamed about living in Val Royeaux my whole life, even when I was just a boy. Carver was horrible to me. He thought I was ridiculous, and I suppose I was, seeing as I was a skinny little slip of a boy living in the arsehole of Ferelden.” His eyes went rolling. “When I was sixteen, a trader passed through Lothering with a funny accent. He claimed he was Orlesian. That was all it took for me to fall into bed with him.”

At Stroud's befuddled expression, Dane laughed again. This time, his nose scrunched and his eyes wrinkled. “Turns out, he was from Highever and just had a lisp!”

Dane dropped back onto the lounge and pulled Stroud back with him.

“I'd never heard an Orlesian speak before in my entire life. I had no idea what it was that I wanted. I knew what I _thought_ I wanted, but the reality of it was... less than.” His hands gathered at the nape of Stroud's neck. Fingers idly brushing over the weathered skin, he sighed a second time. There was a point. He knew there was a point. “You're my first certain thing.”

The words fell from his lips so easily that the sound of them nearly frightened him, but he held Stroud close, even as his heart hammered in his chest. “So I long to have you here, or I long to be with you there, wherever you are. Every moment of every day I have should be spent with you.”

He pulled away just enough to look into Stroud's eyes. “Selfish, right? Like I said.”

“It is,” Stroud agreed with a slow nod. “But, I believe that there is some selfishness that is... good for the heart. If I could...”

There were so many things he wanted to say. He didn't regret becoming a Warden. It was worth getting away from the society that murdered his family and swept it under the rug as just another event.  
  


But now, so many years later, his greatest comfort in Orlais, in the center of Val Royeaux.

In Dane's heart.

“... If there is ever something that I feel you could assist me with, Dane...” He paused to lick his lips, pressing them together to steady himself and the words that followed. “I would travel any distance to tell you, to bring you with me.”

Stroud smiled, just for a moment.

“Without you, my world feels very muted... and after so many nights staring into your eyes, I am accustomed to the color you flood me with.”

An unmistakeable warmth bloomed in the apples of Dane's cheeks. He might think himself too old to blush at a handful of words, but Stroud was always quick to prove to him that that wasn't true. Not in the least bit.

“If you ever need me,” he whispered, drawing his fingertips to Stroud's lips, “then I'll be ready. I'll be ready to go anywhere.”

Stroud's lips twitched against his love's fingers.

“It is good to see you flush again,” he said through a blooming smile. “From something other than arousal, of course. The shade you turn is softer... the sort of color that always suits you best. For the sake of your fashion, I think I ought to embarrass you as often as possible. Or is it simply overwhelming?”  
  


He moved his fingertips to graze over Dane's high cheekbone. “Nothing makes me as happy as this. I can pretend you are my husband. That I will... _never_ have to leave.”

“Jean-Marc...”

The whispered name was meant to chide. Dane glanced away from his face, fingers dropping to his chin and his chest rising with a necessary deep breath. 'Overwhelming' was the word for it, to be sure. Everything about Stroud was when he was in such a mood.

_Grey Wardens don't marry_.

Dane remembered that well enough.

“I wouldn't be able to focus on anything but you if you tried such a thing,” he told him. And when he looked back to him, he was smiling again. “Though I suppose you wouldn't mind.”

“No, and neither would you.”

Stroud chuckled, brushing the backs of his fingers over Dane's cheeks before cupping them, fingers threaded into thick, tangled hair.

“I hold onto a dream I had once. One of the only ones where the taint did not sully it.” He leaned in, kissing Dane sweetly. “In that dream, the Blights were ended, and the Wardens were allowed freedom from their vows. I hold on to a dream that showed me coming home to you one last time, and never leaving again.”

He kissed him once more, but this one was deeper. It was full of a desperation that hadn't been there before. The niggling reminder of the taint in his blood and his limited time always made him such.

“I hold onto _you_ , my Dane,” he whispered against his love's mouth. “I hold onto you with every bit of my strength. _Nothing_ will take that dream from me.”

Dane felt his breath leave him, felt his racing heart slow, felt his skin warm more than even before. He kissed him back, and when he kissed him back, it was just as desperate a kiss. As if Stroud wasn't the only man in that sun room, on the lounge, doused in sun that was unwilling to let go.

“If something tries,” Dane began once he found his voice again, “they'll wish they hadn't.”


End file.
